I toyed briefly with the idea of picking up New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman’s new book, The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-first Century. Until I read Matt Taibbi’s review, that is. It is the single most devastating book review I have ever read. Funny, perceptive, and absolutely vicious. A sample:
The usual ratio of Friedman criticism is 2:1, i.e., two human words to make sense of each single word of Friedmanese. Friedman is such a genius of literary incompetence that even his most innocent passages invite feature-length essays. I’ll give you an example, drawn at random from The World Is Flat. On page 174, Friedman is describing a flight he took on Southwest Airlines from Baltimore to Hartford, Connecticut. (Friedman never forgets to name the company or the brand name; if he had written The Metamorphosis, Gregor Samsa would have awoken from uneasy dreams in a Sealy Posturepedic.) Here’s what he says:
I stomped off, went through security, bought a Cinnabon, and glumly sat at the back of the B line, waiting to be herded on board so that I could hunt for space in the overhead bins.
Forget the Cinnabon. Name me a herd animal that hunts. Name me one.
This would be a small thing were it not for the overall pattern. Thomas Friedman does not get these things right even by accident. It’s not that he occasionally screws up and fails to make his metaphors and images agree. It’s that he always screws it up. He has an anti-ear, and it’s absolutely infallible; he is a Joyce or a Flaubert in reverse, incapable of rendering even the smallest details without genius. The difference between Friedman and an ordinary bad writer is that an ordinary bad writer will, say, call some businessman a shark and have him say some tired, uninspired piece of dialogue: Friedman will have him spout it. And that’s guaranteed, every single time. He never misses.
There’s so much more, including some great observations on outsourcing, wireless technology, the Konica Minolta Bizhub, and uber-steroids. Great reading. Maybe I’ll get Blink instead.
Friedman is one of those guys who never misses an opportunity to be irrelevant or leave you wondering, “What the…?”
To me, the definitive devastating book review belongs to Mark Twain in his “Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offenses” – http://www.jprof.com/editing/twainoncooper.html.
Read it…
John
Delightful review. Thanks for the link. Needed a good laugh.